


Father

by TheGoodDoctor



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Domestic, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Layton's a dad!, Short, parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-02-15 18:42:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2239320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoodDoctor/pseuds/TheGoodDoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble(s?) containing fluff, domestic Layton-Triton-Reinhold family adventures. <br/>In which Layton is a father figure, with all accompanying disciplinary measures, cuddles, film nights and misadventures. Puzzling? Certainly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost Future Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heavily based on this picture: http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_qozgm0W_-kE/TIMoEaUxTuI/AAAAAAAAmBU/BmUfEcja_WQ/s320/PL3Credits05.gif

"-and then, Flora, guess what, oh, you'll love this Professor! Flora-”

Claire tucked herself against the wall as she heard Luke jumble his sentence in his excitement to tell the fateful tale of his and Flora's escapades to their indulgent guardian. She heard the gentleman's soft chuckle and the young lady's giggle as the young boy related the adventure of Flora's new, slippery shoes and the freshly cleaned university hallways.

When the tale finished, Flora broke in. “Ooh, my turn to tell shoe stories!”

“Flora! No!” Luke gasped.

She giggled again. “Professor, you recall those nice high heels I bought?” she began sweetly. Hershel laughed, guessing where the narrative would end before it had even begun. “Well, I came home one day and was ever so surprised to find Luke in my room...”

“I wasn't trying them on!” Luke burst in, appearing unable to contain himself. “I was looking for something, honest!”

“No, you were just sitting next to them, shoes off, looking guilty.” Flora grinned. “Could have happened to anyone.”

Luke pointed one finger up as he passed the alley where Claire was hiding. “But you can't prove anything!”

Flora giggled, hand over her mouth like Luke wouldn't notice, and the Professor rubbed his jaw with one hand, trying to suppress the grin on his face and the laughter in his voice. “Now, now, you two. What Luke does in his own time is his business, but he shouldn't be borrowing from Flora without asking.” Layton's voice gained a teasing lilt. “Luke, I am willing to buy you your own pair if you really want.”

Luke's jaw and arm dropped, and Flora threw her head back, laughing fully and revealing the apple dark against her collarbone. Claire was glad that the Professor was busy laughing and walking with his wards to see the smile so bright it hurt her face and the tears in her eyes. Celeste wouldn't have been that elated to see the Professor happy and caring for his ward and his charge. Claire's heart hurt. While he wasn't the same man he'd been when she'd been thrown out of time, Hershel looked truly happy. Importantly, so did Luke and Flora. It pleased her to know that he was being a good father figure after all. She'd thought vaguely about having children with Hershel, after getting a house and marrying. White picket fence, 2.5 kids stuff. An older girl, and a young boy. Since arriving in the future, these thoughts helped her sleep somehow; Claire supposed that even imaginary Hershels calmed her and made her feel safe in strange situations. Since seeing the Professor with Luke and Flora, her imaginings replaced the faceless, nameless children with the ones Hershel cared for so strongly.

Claire wiped at her eyes. No use crying over spilt milk, or lost futures. She set her jaw, shoulders back and pose strong. Hershel was happy, and that was important. He made others happy, and that was important, too. He made her happy.  
_He's a good father_. One last tear rolled down her cheek. For their lost future.


	2. Tactile

It was on one of Luke's “holidays” when he went to stay with his parents for a time that the Professor first noticed it. He'd absently noted previously that Flora liked hugging people, or that when she was afraid his charge would seek his hand or sleeve for comfort, but hadn't thought much on it. Hershel hadn't hugged Flora much himself, usually patting her back on the rare occasions that she threw her arms around him, all the while feeling awkward and unsure.

Luke had just that morning got on the bus to head home, hugging Flora and shaking hands with the Professor so formally that they'd all laughed. They waved him off before returning to the flat. Taking advantage of the current quiet, Layton had collected his briefcase and settled on the sofa to mark essays. Flora collected a book on archaeology she was borrowing from the Professor's collection and situated herself next to him.

Time passed quietly, the rustle of pages and scratching of Hershel's pen the only noise. Absorbed in his work, it was only when the Professor took a momentary break to stretch his back that he noticed Flora had tucked her legs up onto the sofa next to her. He almost admonished her for an unladylike posture, before passing it off. She never sat like this in a situation in which it would be improper, and Flora was in a flat that was at least in part her own. How she sat was her choice here.

The Professor quickly became engrossed in his work once more, focussing entirely on his students' work. Rosetta was falling behind again; in the hopes he would ask her to stay behind, no doubt. Without Luke and Flora, too. He sighed softly, but a smile rose to his lips at the thought of Flora's reading choice. She'd seemed interested in the catch-up class for Rosetta, and in his work. The Professor felt a surge of pride, which he allowed to distract him briefly before getting on with his work again.

Later, there was a short, shuffling sound, to which the Professor paid no mind until it culminated in Flora leaning against his shoulder. Hershel froze. While Flora had sought physical contact before, it had never been in this setting. Not where she wasn't under great stress. Not where it wasn't... understandable.

Flora noticed his reaction and straightened, biting her lip but offering no words. Hershel felt the loss instantly. With Claire, it had been different – Hershel had enjoyed contact with her, and others. Since her loss, he'd drawn into himself. Told himself he didn't want contact because it reminded him of Claire. Bottled it all up. Refused contact beyond mourning.

Hershel took a deep breath. Hesitantly, he reached an arm out over Flora's shoulders, keeping it carefully hovering over her, letting her back out. Flora looked up at him, hope shining in her big eyes.

“You, uh, might find it more comfortable this way, my dear.”

Flora smiled happily and snuggled into his side fully, so that she was nearly lying fully on the sofa. The Professor's arm draped over her and they continued their previous pursuits. Hershel was surprised at how easily casual cuddling came back to him after years of self-imposed exile, and how much both of them seemed to enjoy it.

 _Tactile_ , that was the word. Hershel smiled.


	3. Evidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your fave is problematic; Hershel Layton  
> 1) Leaves fLORA AT HOME LIKE IT'S NO BIGGIE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been so long and for this I am truly sorry.

“I just want to help!” Flora stamped her foot in irritation. It was childish, but the argument had been had many times before and had already gone on too long.

“It isn't helpful if I have to worry about you all the time.” The Professor attempted to put his hands on her shoulders but she shrugged them off.

“And Luke's different? How? He's younger than me, and-”

“Luke is different.”

“How, because he's a boy?”

“Flora.” The Professor said sharply. “I'm not arguing with you now, Luke and I have to go.”

Luke nodded in excitement. “Yes! It's going to be-” He broke off, having the grace to look embarrassed as Layton and Flora shot him twin glares.

“I've arranged for you to stay with Inspector Groskey now anyway.” The Professor said with finality. “We won't be gone long.”

Flora glared resentfully up at him, eyes swimming with tears, before turning and fleeing to her room.

“Flora-” The Professor began, taking half a step forwards and reaching out, before stopping and letting the hand fall. He sighed, picked up his case and turned to Luke and the door. “Do you have everything?” When the boy nodded, he continued. “Get in the car, then. I'll wait for the Inspector.”

Groskey arrived just as Layton was loading his suitcase. “Hah! Didn't break a sweat!” He announced, jogging up to the car.

Layton managed a smile. “Inspector. Flora's inside, we're just about to go. Make sure she has everything she needs, but the spare key is in my office if you need it.” Groskey nodded. The Professor rubbed his forehead, sighing. “Just – keep her safe?”

“Of course, Layton. Nothing will get between me and her!” Groskey slapped his chest and Layton smiled his thanks. Luke and Layton left for their next adventure and Groskey stepped into the house to find Flora.

* * *

“Wouldn't it be useful if I had some skills?” Flora said the next day over breakfast.

“Of course!” Groskey said. “...what kind of skills?”

“Uh, well, I had some ideas...”

“Whatever you like.” Groskey grinned. Flora's smile turned a little more cunning, and the Inspector wondered what he'd got himself into. 

* * *

“Wrap the bandage as tight as you can.” He instructed.

Flora sat back on her heels. “Won't it hurt?”

“Not me! But maybe a bit - on Luke, say. The important thing is,” Groskey waved his finger at her. “that the person will survive. A little pain will be fine.” He pointed to his partly-bandaged leg. “Tighter.”

* * *

By the end of day two, Flora had mastered all the first aid Groskey knew. To celebrate, the next day they went shopping and with some of Flora's allowance, bought a first aid kit of her own. She also bought a satchel, notebook and some new clothes which she insisted were necessary for the next thing she wanted Groskey to teach her.

* * *

“Keep your hands flat, you'll go faster.” Groskey demonstrated pushing his large hands through the water and Flora imitated.

She nodded, and he smiled encouragingly before she set off for another lap of the pool, hair tidied away into a cap with only one errant curl freed across her forehead. Sheer determination carried her through the water, and no-one would know that before this she had never stepped in anything deeper than a puddle.

* * *

“Push with your legs instead of pulling with your arms so much. It'll be easier, provided you have a good foothold.”

“Yes! I made it to the top!”

“Well done, Flora, you're a natural at climbing.”

“Told you I'd need the new trousers.”

* * *

“How fast was that?”

“One minute dead. Think you can run it again faster?”

* * *

One morning Groskey looked up from his paper as they ate breakfast. “Did you solve those puzzles the Professor left for you?”

Flora beamed. “Oh, yes. I finished four of them on the first morning, and the other six in the evening.” She frowned. “I wish he'd left more. Or harder ones anyway.”

Groskey shook his head and returned to his paper. All ten had been completely incomprehensible to him.

* * *

“Are you sure?”

Flora rolled her eyes with an impish grin. “Yes, Inspector, for the millionth time. Certain.”

“Fine. But don't get hurt or anything.”

“Inspector, it's a martial arts class. I may return bruised.”

* * *

“Come on, Flora, pick your knees up!”

“Sir, you are definitely a biased timekeeper.”

“Quiet, constable. Appreciate the display of a teenager completing the assault course faster than your sergeant.”

* * *

The Professor stopped the car, stretched and rubbed his eyes. The case had been trying – few real puzzles and a lot of people willing to get in their way. Luke had been left with his parents after sustaining a rather large gash from wrist to elbow and a broken rib from jumping out of a burning tower. Clark hadn't been extremely happy, recommending that Hershel go home while he “took care” of Luke. As if Hershel couldn't.

He got out of the car, carrying his luggage up the steps to the door and letting himself in. Groskey should have dropped Flora back here earlier, although he imagined she'd be asleep by now. Hershel unlocked the door by moonlight and stepped in quietly. He walked through the hall to the kitchen to where Flora was reading next to an admittedly-beautiful cake. Hershel stopped his grimace.

At his entry, his daughter looked up at him and beamed. “Professor! Did you have a good adventure? Where's Luke?”

Hershel smiled softly. “He's with his parents. He got a cut.”

Her face crumpled. “Oh, no. Did you put pressure on it and elevate it? Clean and bandage it?”

He shook his head in confusion. “No, I – Flora, where did you learn all this?”

“The Inspector taught me. I also learnt to swim and climb, I did running and the police assault course, and I went to some martial arts and self-defence classes.” She smiled, but there was a challenge in her eyes.

“Really.” He said quietly.

“Yes.” She fiddled with her hands for a moment, the unresolved argument still in both their minds. “Would you like some cake?”

The Professor sighed. “Flora, it's been a trying day. I don't really need any of your cooking now.”

He realised too late that his words were insensitive and unkind when Flora's face harden into a glare. Hershel opened his mouth to apologise but Flora beat him to it. “It's fine. Although, it came from the bakery so that you wouldn't have to fake enjoyment.” She stood, her book abandoned. “The puzzles you left are on the mantelpiece. I should like some harder ones next time, I had run out by the second day.” She snapped, before stalking off to her room.

The Professor sighed, sitting at the table and removing his hat to place his head in his hands. Claire would know what to do. Even the robots of St. Mystere would know what to do. But not him. Didn't she understand that he just wanted to protect her? To keep her safe? He had been trusted with something unbelievably precious and it scared him.

But...

Flora had wanted to be with them so much that she had taken money from her own allowance to get a train ticket and run away. She had argued, when she so hates confrontation. She had got lessons in so many things, and solved all his puzzles with ease excelling Luke's.

Maybe she should be allowed.

Hershel took up a pen and some paper.

_Flora,_

_I'm terribly sorry. My behaviour has been inexcusable and I have been unfair._

_If you will, I should like to talk of our weeks. I believe you will enjoy some of the puzzles especially._

_I missed you._

_Professor H. Layton._

He slid the note under her door and waited. After a while, the door opened. Flora looked up at him sullenly, but when he opened his arms she leapt forwards to embrace him.

They shared the cake and talked, and the argument wasn't spoken of again. But the next letter requesting the Professor's help saw him call for Luke to pack for a few days and to tell Flora to do the same once she got back from self-defence.


	4. Unsichtbar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Professor requires some assistance.

When the Professor came to, it was to an aching pressure on his wrists and ankles, shivers running up and down his arms, and bruising on his ribs, shoulders, and back, reminiscent of being kicked after rolling into a ball on hard, wet cobbles. His eyes opened slowly, squinting against harsh fluorescent lights. Someone had taken his coat, trunk, research, _hat._

Someone had taken him.

The ropes were tight, holding his ankles and wrists tight against the hard wood of the chair, rubbing his skin raw with each conclusive shiver. Layton pulled at them anyway fruitlessly, hissing through his teeth at the unexpected pain.

A shadow detached from the wall in front of him and walked slowly towards him. “Ah, Layton. Sleeping Beauty has awoken.” The voice is familiar, accent unplaceable - the mystery criminal _du jour_. He had been merrily vanishing houses in the middle of the night from the small town of Unsichtburg in the mountains until Layton, Luke and Flora had arrived at the request of the Mayor. “You're getting too good, Professor.”

“Give it up now and let me go, Klars.” Hershell said calmly. “What you seek cannot be found.”

Klars’ face twisted into a snarl. “And how would _you_ know? Nothing can be hidden from me. I have the power over sight itself.” He smiled smugly and the Professor frowned. “See? Or rather, don't.” A sharp pain hit Layton at the base of his skull and his vision went dark.

* * *

Luke consulted his notebook. “We lost the Professor last night, when he heard a noise and went out to investigate.” Flora nodded, watching the boy pace from where she sat on the sofa. “He wouldn't go out without telling us, so there must be foul play!”

Flora frowned. “What can we do?”

Luke held up a hand. “Rescue him!”

* * *

Flora smiled sweetly at the guard on duty. “Hi! Um, I think I've lost my dad? He went this way.”

The guard frowned. “Hmm. Well, miss, I've not seen anybody, but I'll take you to have a look.” Luke followed silently, then ducked into an alcove with a switch box, flicking buttons until an alarm goes off on the far side of the town hall Klars had commandeered. The guard started. “‘Scuse me, miss.” He jogged to the source of the noise while Flora and Luke used the temporary confusion to barge into the hall.

* * *

“Huh? What’s going on?” Klars yelled. His henchmen looked at each other, bemused. “Do something! I'll be back for you, Layton.” Klars charged out of the cellar.

* * *

Flora and Luke hid under the main staircase while thugs swarmed all over the hall, searching for the intrusion. Flora gestured to Luke, ushering him close to the shadowy edge of the room. Tucking close together and crawling, they pulled a spare dark overcoat over them and edged along the perimeter. Luke tugged the door open and they dropped into the cellar silently.

“Professor!” Luke cried. Flora hushed him, but her eyes were just as concerned.

Layton looked up slowly. “Luke? Flora? How-”

Flora shook her head. “Not now. How are we going to get out?”

Luke, tongue stuck out in concentration, pulled apart the knots binding the Professor. “Quickly, with me.” Layton said, standing at last. “I shall need your overcoat.”

* * *

“There! He's escaped!” A figure in a long coat was running full-pelt for the tree line, but when Klars reached the forest he had gone.

“Search! I want him found!” Klars howled. He raged at his second in command. “How did he get through the window? I told you to check it was too small for a grown man!”

“Sir-”

“Find him!”

* * *

The door to the police station opened with the ringing of a small cow bell.

“Unsichtburg police, how may I - oh my.” The Chief of Police started. “Professor, what has happened to you?”

The receptionist offered Layton a chair, but he waved it away. “Chief Scholl, I need you to arrest Klars. He is the vanishing villager you seek; there's no time to explain.”

Scholl straightened her shoulders. “It shall be done. But you will sit here and be tended to. Shall I have someone fetch Flora?”

“Oh, yes, Luke - you'd better tell her she can come down from that tree now.” Layton sank into a chair, happy enough to let Luke run with the Unsichtburg police force, chest stuck out with pride, before he slipped into an exhausted slumber.

* * *

“Oh, Professor, Flora was great! So sweet and needy-” Luke enthused, barely resisting the temptation to bounce on the Professor's sick bed.

Flora blushed. “Thanks, I think. But you were amazing too! You set off the alarm, and helped the police.”

“You jumped from a tree onto a thug!”

“It was an accident! You did much more.”

“No! You-”

The Professor chuckled. “Now, now. You both were resourceful and brave and I am very proud.” His charges glowed from his praise, beaming. “But don't do it again, will you?”

Luke frowned. “Only if you don't get captured again!”

Flora nodded resolutely, and Hershel sighed. “Deal.”

There was a silence as they sipped their tea. “Besides,” Flora piped up, “coming up with a super plan in your state definitely means that the Professor was most amazing.”

“Yeah!” Luke beamed.

The Professor blushed, adjusting the rim of his returned hat. “Well, I...couldn't have done it without you two. Thank you.”

The birds twittered happily, settling to roost as the golden sunset filled the room.


End file.
